We Should Be There
by Deborah Peters
Summary: MWPP - The month after one of those "close calls" Remus tells Harry about, Remus has to deal with his feelings of guilt, Sirius has to deal with his feelings of helplessness, and they both have to deal with their feelings for each other.
1. Strength

We Should Be There Deborah Peters  
  
A/N: If the idea of one boy kissing another makes you uncomfortable, I'm afraid this story will as well. Special thanks go to my beta, Doctor Aicha, for encouraging this, when I know the real reason was that she was sick of reading fiction about Percy.  
  
Chapter One: Strength  
  
Sirius's voice broke the midnight silence in the almost-empty Common Room. "He's quite strong, you know."  
James, the only other student still awake, looked up from the thick stack of parchment he had been revising. "Who is?"  
Sirius was leaning against the wall, his notes abandoned, staring out the window at the full moon. "Remus. He's stronger than he looks."  
James snorted, stretching and absent-mindedly mussing his hair. "Yeah, well, he's a werewolf, chum."  
Sirius rolled his eyes. "I mean it. He always looks so sick all of the time, but—remember that time he and I had that row?"  
"You mean when you almost had him kill Snape?" James asked dryly.  
Sirius waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, that, but I was talking about the morning after, when we went to see Remus in hospital."  
James grinned. "Oh, yeah. I've never seen him so angry, ever."  
Sirius nodded. "He knocked me down, James. Knocked me to the floor."  
"So?" James asked, shrugging.  
"That's no small feat, is it?"  
James almost succeeded in suppressing his laughter. "And I'm the one with the ego problem, eh?" he managed to say, covering his face with his hands to keep from waking any of their housemates.  
Sirius crossed his arms. "Have you ever managed to do it?" he asked pointedly.  
James didn't sober in the slightest. "That's just because we've never had a proper row."  
"Well," Sirius said, "unless you want one now, I suggest you shut it."  
James pressed his lips together and nodded, a few additional giggles escaping.  
"As I was saying," Sirius said, leaning his head against the window, "I'm quite a bit taller, not to mention heavier, than Moony is, right?" James nodded. "Well, he knocked me right flat, didn't he?" James nodded again. "All I'm saying is, he's a lot stronger than he looks." Sirius turned away to look out the window again.  
James stared after him. "Sirius," he said after a moment's pause, "Is something bothering you?"  
"What?" Sirius started, then relaxed. "Oh...well... we should be there with him tonight."  
James shook his head. "You heard him. Not after that close call we had last month."  
Sirius straightened. "And what's about that, anyway?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Why's he suddenly so concerned? He laughed about it the day after, same as always, then suddenly this morning he tells the two of us—"  
"Three of us, Sirius. Peter didn't leave for his great-aunt's funeral until after Charms."  
"Three of us, then," amended Sirius. "Why's he suddenly all Mr. Prefect on us?"  
"Well, you do have to admit, that was the closest we've come to something really bad happening," James said, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses.  
Sirius threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Now you? Listen, just because you've been made Head Boy—"  
"Now look," James said, "You're being... well, you're being you, and you're being exasperating."  
Sirius ran his hand through his hair, thinking. "Look," he said finally, "All I'm saying is, I stopped him before he got anywhere near that little Muggle boy, didn't I? Why was he so upset about it?"  
"Sirius," James said slowly, "How old was Remus when he was bitten?"  
"I don't know—four? Five? He never said exactly, but it was something like that, right?"  
James nodded. "And how old would you say that boy was?"  
Sirius leaned back against the wall. "Oh."  
"Oh, now you understand. I guess you're not third in our class for nothing."  
Sirius snorted. "What do you mean, third? If I recall correctly, you're the one who choked on that last Transfiguration exam. I believe that puts me ahead of you, mate."  
"Yeah," James smirked. "But you're still behind Lily."  
"Proud, are you? Proud of your red-haired girl friend? Sirius said, grabbing an inkwell off a shelf and lobbing it good-naturedly at his best friend.  
"Yeah," James said, catching it deftly and throwing it back. "I am, actually." The two boys grinned at each other. "Now, come on," James said, "Are we studying for N.E.W.T.s, or are you just going to stare at the bleeding moon all night?"  
Sirius had turned to look out the window again. "In a minute. I'm thinking."  
James heaved an audible sigh. "Last time you said that, I wound up an Animagus."  
"Shut it, will you?"  
James snickered, but kept his silence, bent over his notes, until Sirius's voice broke the silence again. "How did you know?"  
James looked up. "Know what?"  
"Lily," Sirius said unblushingly. "How'd you know how you felt about her?"  
James shrugged. "Dunno. I always have, you know that. You tormented me enough about it second year when you caught me tracing her initials in the margins of my History of Magic notes."  
Sirius smiled softly. "Was it hard, though? Making the transition from hating each other, to friendship, to—well, to coming back to the dorm with lipstick on your face?"  
James, a dopey grin on his face, involuntarily moved his hand towards his cheek before scowling, dropping his hand to his lap, and saying, "Look, what's wrong with you tonight?"  
Sirius shrugged. "What do you mean?"  
"Well, you're being awfully serious."  
Sirius groaned. "I swear to Merlin, if you ever make that stupid pun again—"  
"No!" James said, waving him off, "That was unintentional. What I mean is, you're being weird. Weirder than normal."  
"Oh, shove it, Potter," Sirius said, turning back towards the window. In a few moments, however, he said, quietly, "I guess I'm just worried about Moony."  
James looked surprised. "Why? You said yourself, he's stronger than he looks."  
"It's just—well, he hasn't made a transformation without us in almost two years, has he? I mean, even over the summers, he's had either you or me, and both of us sometimes."  
"Well, yeah."  
Sirius turned away from the window, frowning. "So, he's had us to keep him from—from hurting himself. You remember what it was like without us. How he'd be in hospital for whole days afterwards. You've seen the scars on his hands, and on his back, and that really deep one that runs right across the back of his neck—" Sirius slammed his hand against the wall. "That's it," he said, with a sense of finality. "We have to go out there."  
James put his notes aside and stood up. "No, Sirius."  
"Look, James," Sirius said, crossing the room to stand in front of him, "I know he told us to stay here, but I absolutely cannot stand the idea of him having to go through this alone. Do you know what he's doing to himself right now? Do you know how bad he's going to be in the morning? Can't you just imagine when Madam Pomfrey goes in to get him and he's lying there in a pool of his own blood, unconscious because of the horror he's just been through—"  
"Sirius!" James exclaimed, reaching up to grab his best friend by the shoulders. "Calm down! He's going to be fine!"  
"Haven't you been listening to me?" Sirius said desperately. "He's cutting himself out there—biting himself—"  
"There's nothing we can do!" James said forcefully. "Even if I thought we should go down there, we'd have no way of getting past the Willow without Peter being here."  
"So we use a stick!" Sirius was almost frantic. "If Snivellus can do it—"  
"Listen to yourself!" James tightened his grip of Sirius's shoulders and shook him. "You are practically hysterical. What in hell is wrong with you?" Sirius started to make a reply, but James cut him off. "No. It's your turn to shut it. Listen to me. Remus made that transformation without us for ten years. That's more than half of our lives. Are you listening? He doesn't need us. Sure, we help him, and sure, he likes having us there, and I know that we like being there for him. But he doesn't need us, Sirius," James repeated. "He doesn't need us."  
"Well, maybe I need him to!" Sirius blurted.  
James's hazel eyes blinked behind his glasses. "What did you say?"  
"Nothing," Sirius spat, trying to pull away.  
James held him in place. "No, you said you need him to. Need him to need us? Is that what you said? You need him to need us? Why? You don't think we have enough responsibility, enough people idolising us?"  
"I don't give a damn about us, Prongs! I could care less if he needs you or Peter!"  
James's voice was quiet, but strong. "So, you're saying you need him to need you?"  
Sirius didn't answer.  
James didn't raise his voice. "What do you mean, Padfoot?"  
"I—"Sirius was far more hesitant than he had ever been. "I—I don't know. I don't know what I mean. I don't know." The words came out in a rush as he pulled himself from James's grip. "I don't—I have to go. I'm taking your cloak."  
"No," James said, grabbing Sirius's arm, "You're not going down there."  
"I'm not!" Sirius said angrily, pushing James away from him. "I just need to go think. I'll go to the lake or something. I swear, I won't go anywhere near him tonight."  
"Give me your word. As a Gryffindor."  
Sirius's expression was solemn. "I give you my word."  
James nodded, and Sirius practically ran up the stairs to their dormitory. He returned in a few moments, the shimmering material draped over his arm, and swept past James without another word, swinging the cloak over his shoulders as he exited through the portrait hole. 


	2. Weakness

We Should Be There Deborah Peters  
  
Chapter Two: Weakness  
  
The faint light of dawn coming through the window did very little to light the private, curtained-off area of the hospital wing; the glow from the hearth served not only to add warmth and light, but also to make the sterile atmosphere of the room seem less bleak. The door suddenly opened, allowing a hushed woman's voice to break the stillness. "Only a few more feet, Remus."  
A slight mumble was the only reply as Madam Pomfrey pushed the door all the way open and half-carried a ghostly figured wrapped in an old cloak. "I've set you up in your usual bed, so we've only to cross the room, and you can rest," she said with a cheerful lilt to her voice that just fell short of not sounding forced. There was no reply until the bed was reached and the specter laid upon it; only then did she pull the cloak away from the boy's blood streaked face to hear a hoarsely whispered "Thank you."  
"Of course you're welcome, as always, dear," she said softly. "Let me bandage you, and then I'll get the sleeping draft." Her hands worked deftly, swapping between clean, white cloth and a mahogany wand, and though it was obvious that she was concentrating on the work at hand, she also quietly talked to her charge.  
"This has been the worst in my recent memory, Remus."  
Remus's only response was a barely perceptible nod.  
"I had been hoping that the more mild transformations you've been having in the last couple of years would come to be the norm, and this sudden relapse worries me."  
Remus didn't answer; his eyes were shut tightly as she sealed a rather serious gash that ran the length of his forearm.  
"Do you have any idea why this one was so terrible?"  
Remus drew a haggard breath, answering her for the first time. "I couldn't tell you."  
Madam Pomfrey was wrapping his blue, swollen ankle tightly in elastic cloth. "I expect it's just something we now know we'll have to watch for. Another mystery of Lycanthropy, I suppose."  
"I suppose," echoed Remus, as she finally laid his head back against the pillow, wiping the blood off of his face with a damp rag.  
"Try to clear your mind, and I'll be right back with the draught." She turned and left through the door to her office.  
All was still for a moment, until the sudden sound of quick footsteps and a rustle of fabric. There was a shimmer beside Remus's bed, and then the sudden sight of Sirius Black pulling an iridescent cloak off of his shoulders.  
Remus blinked disbelievingly. "S—Sirius?"  
Sirius nodded, and sat down gingerly on the edge of his friend's bed. "Yeah."  
Remus blinked again, as if trying to clear the vision from his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he said huskily.  
Sirius seemed to be gazing into the coals of the fire. "I wanted to know how you were doing," he said vaguely.  
"How long have you been here?" Remus asked him, puzzled.  
"Since about one o'clock in the morning, I guess."  
Remus made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a heaving cough. "Why?"  
"I wanted to know how you were doing," Sirius repeated, turning to look down at him. "You look awful."  
Remus made the sound again. "That happens, sometimes."  
"Look," said Sirius hesitantly, "I think—I think you should have let me and James go with you this time."  
Remus sighed. "I told you. Not after what happened last month."  
The door to Madam Pomfrey's office suddenly opened, and Sirius flung himself off of the bed and against the wall, gathering James's cloak around himself. "I'm sorry, dear," the nurse said, her face a rather flushed crimson, "but I seem to have run completely out of sleeping potion. I'll have to go see the Potions Master about some."  
"It's all right, Madam Pomfrey," Remus said quietly but earnestly.  
"Well—just try and sleep without it, dear?" Madam Pomfrey said, looking quite concerned. "Try not to dwell on the transformation, in any case. You know it always makes it worse."  
"Yes," Remus said indistinctly. "I know."  
"I know you do." Madam Pomfrey continued to watch him for a few moments, before briskly adding, "Try to sleep, then," and turning to leave the hospital wing.  
After only the briefest of pauses, Sirius had the cloak off again, this time flopping onto the chair beside Remus's bed. "I've never known her to be out of sleeping draft before," he said, absent-mindedly stretching his arms above his head.  
"Yes, well, she didn't know she'd be needing it. I'm usually not this bad off at the end of a full moon," Remus said in his tired, scratchy voice.  
Sirius abruptly sat up straight, pounding his hands into the arms of the chair. "You see?" he exclaimed, "You see why we should have gone with you? You're even worse than you were before our fifth year!"  
"I realise that. I think it's because I'm older now, so the Wolf is stronger. Either that, or it's just venting its frustration of not being completely let out in two years."  
Sirius stood up, as if unable to contain his energy, and began to pace back and forth in front of the bed, running his hands through his hair. "This is ridiculous. It's absolutely ridiculous. You," he said emphatically, turning to look at the thin, pale boy in the bed, "are absolutely ridiculous."  
Remus's pained expression was only partly due to the physical trauma he had just been through. "Why am I ridiculous?"  
"Because!" Sirius shouted, "You've got three mates who are dying to help you out—"  
"I don't want anybody dying for me, Sirius!" Remus interjected softly.  
"Don't be stupid, you know what I meant! You've got the three of us, and all you can think of to do is lie there in that hospital bed, playing the martyr, all cut up and—"Sirius suddenly stopped raving and swallowed. "That's a lovely black eye you're sporting, there."  
Remus raised his left hand, the one less injured, to his face, and winced. "Hadn't realised I'd managed to bang up my face. Usually it's just my hands and back."  
"And, this time, your ankle, it seems," Sirius added, sitting lightly on the bed next to his friend, staring at the wounded appendage. "A lovely purple color it's becoming, did you see?"  
"My eye's swollen shut, of course I didn't."  
Sirius looked down to see Remus's thin lips formed into a weak smile. "Your ankle's nowhere near as bad as the cut running across your forehead and down your cheek, though. When Madam Pomfrey brought you in here, I thought you were losing all of your blood."  
"Is it still...?" Remus asked, rolling his eyes upward as if he could see the cut.  
"Of course not," Sirius said. "She made it stop bleeding straight away. It's sealed now, though it looks like—"He lifted his fingers to gently touch Remus's cheek. "It looks," he said softly, "like you're going to have a rather faint scar."  
Remus's eyes remained locked on Sirius's fingers. "You never know," he murmured. "It might heal."  
"It might," Sirius echoed. He blinked, running his thumb gently across the recently healed cut. "Remus," he said suddenly.  
Remus's reply was to focus his gaze on Sirius's eyes. "Remus," Sirius repeated, "You have to promise me you'll never go through that transformation alone again."  
"Alone?" Remus repeated, his eyes showing the confusion he felt.  
"Promise me," said Sirius, leaning down towards him, "that you'll never go through that transformation without me ever again."  
"Without you?" Remus's voice was even quieter than normal.  
"Promise me," Sirius said, his face only six inches away from Remus's.  
"I—I don't—what exactly are you asking, Sirius?" Remus asked in a perplexed whisper.  
"I'm not sure," Sirius confessed, and then he moved forward and kissed Remus gently on the cheek.  
It was a short kiss, just a slight connection, and when Sirius pulled away, Remus was left with an expression of extreme uncertainty in his eyes. Sirius broke the silence with a sharp intake of breath. "Remus, I hate that you have to go through this. It hurts."  
Remus didn't answer, but Sirius continued his release of frank words. "There's so much I can do, Moony. I can ride a broomstick, I can get top marks on exams, I can nick food from the kitchens. I can write a magical map of the school. I can become an Animagus. I can turn into a big, black dog. But I can't," he said dismally, dropping his head to his chest, "do anything to stop you from going through an absolute nightmare twelve times a year. When it comes to that, I'm the weakest person in this room."  
"Sirius..." Remus said softly.  
Sirius lifted his head. "I hate that I'm weak. I hate that I can't do anything for you."  
"You're not weak," Remus said, lifting a bandaged hand to rest heavily on Sirius's arm. "You're not." With the last bit of strength he had left, Remus pulled himself into a sitting position, dropping his head on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius wrapped his arms around the exhausted young man, stroking the brown hair with his fingers, and that was how Madam Pomfrey found them when she re-entered the hospital wing.  
She managed not to drop the bottle of sleeping draught in her surprise; rather, she set the bottle down on a nightstand and strode purposefully across the room. "What do you think you are doing, Sirius Black?" she demanded.  
Sirius didn't turn around, for fear of the motion jarring Remus, but said simply, "I suppose you'd like me to leave, then?"  
"Get out of my hospital!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, pointing firmly to the exit. Sirius gently laid Remus back in bed, stood, and grabbed James's cloak off of the chair. "If you want me to explain—" "I don't need anything explained," Madam Pomfrey said firmly, "Just leave. Honestly, don't you want him to recover properly?" When she made the clicking noises with her tongue, Sirius knew that he would be in no special trouble. "It's bad enough we have one boy up all night doing all sorts of terrible things to himself, then this one doesn't seem to think it worth sleeping past dawn. Well, you'll get no sympathy from me, Mr. Black. Go down to breakfast immediately, if it's even late enough for that yet—and don't even think about coming back here until tomorrow! I won't have any of you lot disturbing Mr. Lupin today, do you understand?" Sirius was already halfway across the room. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey." "And if I catch you sneaking in here again, I'll be having a talk with Professor McGonagall!" "Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Sirius said, his hand on the doorknob. He left the room and had almost pulled the door behind himself, when a tired, hoarse voice called from inside the room, "Sirius?" He leaned back inside. "Yes?" Remus was looking at him from the bed, an unreadable expression on his face as Madam Pomfrey poured sleeping draught into a goblet. "I..." he began, then muttered, as if he could find no other words, "Thank you." Sirius looked at him for a moment, then finally closed the door behind him. 


	3. Decision

We Should Be There Deborah Peters  
  
Chapter Three: Decision  
  
Peter was still rubbing his mother's lipstick off of his cheek when he came through the portrait-hole, a handkerchief in one hand and a small, brown suitcase in the other. Finally sure he'd wiped the last of his mother's smothering affection from his face, he crossed the Common Room and climbed the boys' dormitory staircase. He expected his dorm to be devoid of all occupants; it was a bright April afternoon, and a Saturday to boot, and the sort of day that invariably found all four seventh-year Gryffindors on the grounds.  
When he pushed open the door, however, he found that Remus, at least, was not outside, but rather in bed, propped up by pillows, engrossed in a dusty book supported by his knees. At the sound of the door opening, the pale boy's gaze lifted from the text. "Hello, Peter," he said softly, "Did your trip go well?"  
Peter dropped his suitcase on the floor and sat down on his own bed. "I guess," he said. "I mean, the trip itself was okay, but the funeral was horribly boring, especially as I didn't even know Aunt Sophie. The whole ordeal was just rather awkward, honestly, aunts and cousins coming up to me and asking me if I was close to her, like some kind of poll." He suddenly flopped onto his back. "And that open casket was creepy. When I die, I hope they—what's that Muggle thing they do called—creamery me? When they blow you up and scatter the bits someplace?"  
"Cremate," Remus supplied easily. "They burn the corpse and either put the ashes in an urn or scatter them someplace meaningful."  
Peter sat up, seemingly fascinated. "You must've learnt all sorts of things from your mum's family."  
Remus shrugged, wincing a little as he did so. "I say," Peter said, suddenly, "You look like hell. Full moon night before last, wasn't it—did you end up letting Padfoot and Prongs go with you?"  
Remus shook his head tiredly. "No. I meant what I said. We've been getting too careless."  
Peter cocked his head to the side. "So, where are they now?"  
Remus laughed quietly and gestured vaguely towards the window. "Practising Quidditch, what else?"  
Peter frowned. "And what, left you here all by yourself to waste away indoors behind a big, dusty book? Some mates!"  
Remus shook his head, smiling. "No, they don't even know I'm out of hospital yet."  
"How? Didn't you get out yesterday morning, like usual?" Peter asked.  
"No, only today. And I missed yesterday's Quidditch match, too—Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff."  
"Well, so did I, so you'll get no sympathy from me," Peter scoffed. Then, after a moment's pause, he peered at Remus and asked, "Why the extra day in hospital?"  
"I..." Remus swallowed. "I had a bad way of it this time around."  
"Why was this time different?" Peter asked, blinking.  
Remus pressed his lips together, and then said, quietly, "I couldn't tell you, Peter."  
Peter seemed satisfied by this, and proceeded to drag his suitcase up onto the bed with him, open it, and begin to unpack. He was just storing some clean socks in a drawer when Remus's voice broke the relative quiet, saying, "Peter, could I ask you a question?"  
Peter closed the drawer and turned to face him. "Sure, Moony, though I probably won't know the answer."  
Remus shook his head. "Not that kind of question. More like...an opinion."  
"Well... all right," Peter said, shrugging. "What about?"  
"What do you think... about... Sirius?"  
Peter shrugged again. "He's great."  
"No, I mean—well, do you think he's... earnest? I mean, would he say or do something that he didn't mean?"  
Peter laughed. "Of course he would."  
The color seemed to drain a little from Remus's face. "He would?"  
"Oh, yeah!" Peter said. "When have you ever known Padfoot to pass up the opportunity to pull one over on a teacher or a Slytherin? I think he'd ask Snivellus for a snog if he thought he could get a laugh out of it!"  
At Peter's last statement, Remus seemed to grow even paler. "But, what do—I mean, do you think—Would Sirius lie to one of us, for a laugh? About something sort of important?"  
"Sure he would!" Peter said easily. "Remember that time he told me our Charms exam was Thursday, when it was really Friday? That was important, and he had me up all night revising until Tabitha Spinnet came and told me the truth."  
"But, what if it were something more important than an exam? Something—personal?" Remus asked, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.  
"Well, probab—Hey!" Peter said suddenly, "what do you mean? What did Padfoot say to you, Moony? I can check around to see if he was trying to play a trick on you, if you like." "No, no," Remus said hastily, "I'm sure that's not necessary, Peter, but thank you all the same."  
Peter peered at Remus intently. "What did Padfoot say to you? You can trust me, Moony."  
Remus was quiet for a moment. "Peter," he said finally, "I know I can trust you. I know you can keep a secret—we all do. But what I'd like to tell you might gravely affect how you see Sirius and myself as people."  
Peter inhaled sharply. "You did help him cheat on that last Transfiguration exam! James said you must've, but I—"  
"No, of course not," Remus said tiredly. "Believe me, Peter, this is much more considerable than cheating on exams."  
"It can't be all that awful," Peter said. "Not if you're involved. Sirius, maybe—but whatever involves the both of you? Honestly, just tell me. I won't judge you to be any different. I swear."  
Remus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Visibly steeling himself, he said, quietly, "Sirius... came to see me in hospital night before last. After the moon. And he... told me... well, he... Sirius... kissed me." Remus seemed to consider his last words, hastily added, "On the cheek," and looked away from Peter.  
Peter bit his bottom lip. "Well," he said at last, "I'm not exactly surprised. I'm not not surprised, though. I guess you could say... I didn't see this coming, but I didn't not see it coming, either."  
Remus was looking down at his book. "What do you mean?"  
"Well," Peter said again, "I can't help but notice sometimes that Sirius looks at you like James looks at Lily."  
Remus's head snapped up. "What?"  
Peter seemed to choose his words carefully. "Sometimes... when we were just out on the grounds, or in the common room, we'd all be talking like usual, and I'd just see him watching you with this look... I guess if I had to call it something, I'd call it... possessive. Yeah, possessive. If that makes any sense."  
Remus put his head in his hands. "Nothing makes any sense."  
Peter's voice broke the silence. "Did you like it?"  
Remus's voice was muffled. "Like what?"  
"When he kissed you."  
For the second time, Remus lifted his head sharply. "Peter!" he said, shocked.  
Peter shrugged. "I assume you did, otherwise you wouldn't be worried about whether or not he meant it."  
Remus's voice was almost shaky. "That's not necessarily true. I could have loathed his advances and am now trying to see if I have to worry about them in the future."  
"That's not true, though, is it, Moony?" Peter asked quietly.  
Remus was saved having to answer by the door to the dormitory swinging suddenly open, admitting two voices, one tenor and one baritone. "Seriously, Padfoot, the object of the game is to hit the Bludgers away from the Chasers. That last one almost took my—"James's tirade was cut short when he saw who was in the room. "Oy, Padfoot, look who's back!"  
Sirius appeared in the doorway behind James. "Hullo, then, Wormtail, how are the dead aunties?"  
Peter rolled his eyes. "Quite boring, really, though their conversation has improved, if anything."  
The two Quidditch players tromped into the room, chattering happily, carefully stowing their broomsticks in places of honor but scattering their training robes and boots all over the floor. Remus, for all appearances absorbed once more in the book on his lap, pretended not to notice when Peter leaned over to whisper something to James.  
When James was dressed in his regular clothes, he cleared his throat, not too obviously, and said, "Well, Wormtail, since you're back, do you want to get to that Ancient Runes study session I promised you?"  
Peter nodded, apparently grateful. "See you later, Padfoot. Try not to drown yourself in that book, Moony."  
"I don't think that's physically possible, Wormtail," James said, and the two boys left the dormitory.  
Sirius had flopped onto his bed in just his trousers, apparently too exhausted to exert himself enough to pull on a sweater. He was staring at the ceiling and didn't seem to be making the conscious effort to avoid looking at Remus.  
After a few minutes of glancing from his book to his friend, Remus closed his eyes, steadied himself, and said, "Sirius?"  
Sirius rolled over in his bed to look at Remus wordlessly.  
"Sirius, I want to know... about what you said Thursday night."  
The black-haired boy sat up. "Well. That's interesting. I want to know how you felt about it."  
Remus looked down at his book. "I... I can't know that until I know if you were being earnest in what you said."  
Sirius, laughing, stood up, crossed the room, and sat on the far edge of Remus's bed. "So, let me understand this correctly—you have to know how I feel in order for me to know how you feel, and I won't know how I feel until I know how you feel—"  
"Yes, Sirius, that's it, now answer me," Remus interrupted vehemently.  
Sirius looked at him, blinking, and let out a quiet, low-pitched howl under his breath. "Well, Moony, since you're so very intent on knowing," he said, drumming his fingers on the edge of the bed, "I meant every word I said, and some I didn't say."  
Remus's lips parted unconsciously as he blinked at the other boy. Silent for a moment, he at last breathed, "You did?"  
Sirius nodded. "And I meant everything I did, too."  
Remus blinked. "You... you did?"  
Sirius edged closer to the other boy. "I did, Remus. I still do. I've had a lot of time to think about this since that night—I don't think I've slept much, actually—and I know what I want from you. I know what I was asking you when I asked you to never go through your transformation without me. Remus, I don't want you to ever be without me for any reason. I want to be with you for as long as I can—and not in the way that I want to be with James or Peter. Remus, I... I think you know what I mean."  
Remus, now only a half-meter away from Sirius, drew a shaky breath. "Sirius... I don't know if I... I just don't know."  
Sirius's only response was to lay his hand on Remus's shoulder, draw the other boy closer, and kiss him gently on the lips.  
"I'm a risk-taker, Moony," the gray-eyed boy said as he pulled away. "I live for the thrill of it. I love the idea that, any second, somebody could come and catch me, that somebody could come and tell me that I'm misbehaving. I love pranks, I love dares—I love risks. But, Moony—I would never put my relationship with you to chance. If I didn't think that there were even the slightest hint that you might feel the same way about me that I feel about you, I wouldn't have done that. Remus, please tell me that kissing you will never be a risk for me. Please tell me that you will let me be there for you."  
Remus's response was as silent as Sirius's was eloquent; the pale boy leaned into the other's embrace, resting his sandy-haired head on the proffered shoulder, and closed his eyes with the relief that comes after a difficult decision. 


End file.
